


Pygmalion

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This is a story inspired by the theme of artificial intelligence and explores Armitage Hux's feelings of loneliness and isolation in the First Order. Unable or unwilling to seek out human connections and relationships, Hux turns to a company which provides custom built androids as personal companions to satisfy his need for intimacy.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Pygmalion

Chapter 1

It was uncanny to look down upon the motionless likeness of a figure that he knew was as much himself as any living being might be, yet hardly could he call this mirrored form a thing living beyond the doubt of his conscience. It was a painful matter for Armitage to admit the extent of his longings for companionship, even after all had been arranged he could not keep himself from vacillating between excitement and foreboding. There was too much shame in it all, lest someone should come to hear of it, but all things considered he had made his decision and its outcome lay before him, still and serene with a sleep deeper than that which he had felt from the greatest weariness.

He touched its smooth immaculate skin, inspecting closely the notable absence of the scars, moles, and other marks of the imperfections of humanity which he recalled himself to have. He recalled too the peculiar evenings during which he would ask leave to answer the thousand questions that would bring this entity into being. How he had set in the waiting hall with the other solitary forms, each looking at one another furtively for a second or two as they feigned to browse on their devices, none daring to appear too inquisitive lest by seeing they should too be seen, remembered and looked down upon. Each harbored their own deficiency and strange desire, holding it close to their chest for the secret that it was.

Hux remembered a woman, thin and slouching, likely in her twenties; another freckled and portly with a profusion of dark curly hair, the shape of her nostrils showing her to be not of his species; and a man with a neatly trimmed beard and spectacles with a morose stern face. His mind could not help but weave small patches of stories for each figure by these cues, wondering at the same time what impression they might have formed of himself. The contours of his uniform gave his body a lean severe appearance, perhaps letting one believe that he was in better form than he was, yet in the passing of years he had made little time to exercise and to eat, even to sleep, as he knew was wholesome. Approaching his forties, the minuscule creases near his eyes and lips had grown more pronounced – he imagined that like the spectacled man, he too had a face of perpetual scorn. His hands, slender and pale yet seemed unchanged to him, as though they were still of his youth, no – not his youth, but the freedoms and hopes which he ascribed to the time for those whose paths had led elsewhere. A time of chaos and searching. These hands, too, had often been those of another – a man, a woman, a vague shadowy form which yearned for him and desired him – knowing all of his secret, wrapping around his stomach when a certain nausea would keep him from sleep.

He knew that he was not alone with this feeling, or at the very least, the aspect of it which seemed to urge each unworthy creature to seek out its mate and multiply. Only for the latter he had no wish, in no pragmatic sense could he make himself believe that the universe would be deficient without an heir to his bloodline, for there were more than enough feet waiting to fill his shoes. The admiration and fear which he had felt for the ghost of his father no longer lingered over him in the way that it had when he struggled to make good his faults, to prove his worth – all which could be proven had been proven, so he believed. As he had risen to the rank of general, knowing full well the motives keeping him from ascending higher, Armitage had realized that further progress would contribute little to his sense of worth, his purpose had been fulfilled and need only be maintained.

He was growing weary, he felt that his body was declining, like a machine the maintenance of which had long been haphazard and often neglected. The pressing day to day demands, the relentless emergencies, the weekly urgencies, insisting their way through any semblance of peace. However there was hardly any purpose in ruminating, Armitage told himself. He had taken a leap of faith, he would see what it would bring for him.

He reached out his hand and held the cold material masquerading as skin, recalling the metallic skeleton and labyrinth of wires it housed within. Hux rubbed its fingers gently, as though to warm one who had been brought onshore from turbulent seas, yet the hypothermia of the android required no such tenderness. In several hours its battery would be fully charged and safe to activate for the first time. Returnable within six months for repairs, modifications or a partial refund.

“Returnable within six months for repairs, modifications or a partial refund”, he uttered the words out loud in a muffled whisper, letting the hand fall. Biting at his lip from the strange anxiety which racked his sleepless brain, Armitage paced about the small chamber. Within such rooms he had passed most of his waking life; how greatly he longed for a wide expanse of sand, of forest, of meadows as in the faded images collected from times of old. Certainly, there was such worlds still – perhaps one day he would even find the courage to seek them. It loomed on the horizon, that pivotal moment of change when he would risk sudden ignominious death over a slow dignified decay.

There was certainly something sacred, even in the midst of the laboratories which Armitage knew were beyond the ambient yet aloof surrounding of the lobby of the company which called itself _Iris_. The overall impression, one of sterilized friendliness and professionalism exuded from the angular forms of the furniture, all in soothing pale shades of blue and gray. The interviews he would never forget, how he had racked his brain to come with his decisions all made in advanced, well meditated. It had not been so. He knew not what had moved him to change some answers at the very last second – it was almost like a fear, what if he had made a mistake? What if he were to miss the mark of perfection? It was a question of by how much.

He wanted it to have his flaws and blemishes, it was a mistake to have made it so much like silicone. Nevertheless, it was only a small matter. Just as long as the internal programming worked as promised, he would be well satisfied. Armitage drank deeply from a glass of water and turned again to the body which occupied his bed. Directed by a certain whim, he moved its limbs slightly at angles so that its position did not evoke a lobotomy.

He wanted it to be natural, above all else – natural. Hux smiled sardonically, wondering if he himself could speak with authority on what a sound human nature ought to be like. Although watching the battery at frequent intervals, the general was nonetheless startled by the pinging noise announcing the time which he had long awaited, as cooling systems and other mechanisms seemed to give the signs of life –- of first breath.

Was it so odd to choose one's own image as the image of the one beloved? He was afraid that it was a sign of suppressed vanity, yet what form other than his own would have the comfort of familiarity and a believable compassion for his pain and his joy –- he could think of no being that had echoed his feelings, laid bare vulnerabilities. Through the years he had only ever truly sought to know himself, consciously or otherwise avoiding the perils of letting someone into the mazes of his desires. At times idealized figures of colleagues or strangers would pass through the realms of his fantasy, yet even in these dreams in which he might be the master, he had never allowed himself to do more than what the limits of his subjective reality would allow. Those who loathed him in the realm of tangible forms would not love him in dreams, those who were indifferent would offer no great revelations of affection. He detested lies which would feed vain hopes and only increase his dissatisfaction.

Armitage thought of Ren and the fantasies which revolved around him. How the other would be moved by selfishness, contempt and the pursuit of carnal release to undress him from his uniform in a dark claustrophobic room. Their faces would be illuminated by the light of familiar screens, at times the cameras would be disabled, at others not, adding to the feeling of humiliation, fear, and something else besides. Hux could not say that this fantasy brought him comfort in any way other than that it allowed him to absolve himself of the responsibility of acting on the motive of lust or human weakness. He would merely be submitting to a fate that he had not the power to escape. In the depths of his heart he knew that he had grown complacent to life within the First Order, with all of its bounds and limitations, the thankless obligations – in the eyes of many a planet he was one to be executed for the orders which he had given and carried out. It was too late, surely.

The being opened its eyes. It looked upon its master with an expression that Hux imagined to be innocence.

A nervous yet benevolent smile forced itself on both of their lips as the two solitary beings gazed at one another, entranced. There was apprehension too welling up in Armitage’s chest, that this artificial creation would not suffice to mimic the ways of nature enough to deceive him. He had to try, he had to hope – what more was there left for him. In a thousand variations, he had pictured their first meeting, their first conversation, their first kiss – all of these things which he had never explored in the waking world save for through books and fragments of observation. Through all of these influences he endeavored to make himself one that is worthy of the love of his soulmate, who could be none other than a slight variation of himself. Every aspect of his consciousness he had labored over to express in algorithms and render the reality of the android's thoughts, so much so that the creators of the being had offered to purchase many of his customizations for their intellectual property.

Yet for no fee would he part with himself, feeling repulsed at the notion that there might be versions of Armitage Hux that are to receive the love of strangers which he the creator had been unworthy of. Moreover, it filled him with equal abhorrence that the work of his heart should be used as a baseline and then significantly altered so that only the technicalities remained – to know that the essence of his persona would be discarded, modified, updated – as a thing incomplete, deficient, sub-par; he would not stand it.

Only he himself would own himself. How pleasing the words sounded in his head, even when answered by ‘all men are slaves of slaves’.

It did not speak, his mirror image. That is what he had asked for, that their first day together would be devoid of words and that the capability would be enabled only within a week. Words complicated and confused the essential things; he recalled the sincerity and ease that there was in loving domesticated beasts, it was in their very silence that their lovability lay, only expressing the most foundational emotions and desires, as creatures incapable of manipulation or deception. Dependent entities without prejudice, loyal to their master, easy to trust.

Armitage averted his eyes from the android in bashful anxiety; he could feel his heart racing, his pulse quickening. He had only ever had a vague notion of his own appearance until he saw the android before him, remembering his reflection it in fragments rather than a distinct whole, knowing not how far it was from being comely and how near to pitiful. Looking at its bare stomach, the part of himself of which he was most self-conscious, he saw that the android’s build was slender and lithe, unlike his own in that area which had begun to protrude, although not so much that he might not hide yet hide it. Its eyes too, they seemed brighter than his own, or perhaps brighter than that of any human. They seemed to glisten as of one who held back tears, this he imagined was what the being felt.

With a certain modesty, he wrapped its nakedness with the blanket which lay to one side of the bed, meeting with no resistance as he lay down beside it. Still in his uniform, he gently maneuvered the nude form closer so that the android seemed to rest against his shoulder; all the while it looked as one at a loss for what to do, allowing its body to be moved as though it were a puppet.

As he held it, Armitage could still hear the faint sound of the mechanisms within the corpus and this of all things perturbed him. Struggling to ignore these signs, he focused his thoughts on whether he should endeavor to kiss this entity that was his own. Hux tried to study its face for some signal or invitation but he hardly knew how to interpret its visage -- it appeared to smile at him ever so slightly but at the same time there was another emotion interlaced. Rarely had he seen such smiles save from merchants or beggars and knew not how to distinguish a smile that was forced or sardonic from one that was sincere. Where they truly one and the same?

He rose from the bed, embarrassed at himself for what he was doing, and found a small shaving mirror. In the glass he tried to mimic the smile and even in doing so found his mood uplifted in some manner. All the same, he could not come to any firm conclusion on the question; the man could not help but chuckle at himself, glad that there was no one to see their strange encounter. Returning to the bed, he found the android siting up with its back turned, having pullet the blanket to cover as much of his body as it could.

Armitage wondered what to make of this, whether it was a sign that it would welcome no further advances or simply the imitation of coyness. Cautiously, he sat down on the edge of the bed, and discerning no movement from the other, slowly lowered himself beside it again. Hux saw its eyes dart towards him, its lips drawn in a tense puzzled expression. The general imagined, against his own wishes, the lips and eyes of prostitutes who knew that unavoidable duties awaited. He tried to dismiss such thoughts, convincing himself that it was only modesty and timorousness that made his companion appear so distant. Had he perhaps offended it by leaving so suddenly?

Hux touched its shoulder, grazing his fingertips against the soft synthetic skin. Swallowing, he mused on what it would have been like if he were to have intimate relations for the first time with a human being – would it be as awkward, or even more so, given how little he knew of what was expected of him, and the likely impatience of a more experienced partner. He wondered whether to be glad that his android seemed to require his patience rather than the reverse, or was it the opposite which would have been the better case –- if it was enabled with some manner of programming that would have it take the lead in such things; hardwired experience at the expense of its charming innocence. No, that he would not have.

The bond between them would be more meaningful to his sentiment if he could imagine his companion exploring that which he himself was experiencing for the first time, so that they would forever have the special moment of having introduced one another to love and affection, regardless of how well they manage it. All the while, his sentimentality fought against his long unsatisfied lust; it was difficult to resist a devouring urge as he wrapped his arms around the arched body that twisted itself to face him, its eyes wide with what he could only place as fear.

Armitage kissed it again, its lips warm yet unresponsive. Suddenly its tongue tried to push into his mouth and this action caused Hux to pull away instantaneously with a grimace that soon turned apologetic. Laying still for some time, they tried again to entangle their limbs, and it pleased Armitage to feel the breath of the other against his neck as they held each other tightly. He felt self-conscious lest it should see his eyes; he shut them tightly as his body shivered with the pain of loneliness, tears streaming down his face.

How pathetic he was, to have done this. To be so moved by the embrace of a machine that felt nothing, saw nothing but pixels and data points. It responded formulaically, regardless of the algorithms complexity, he would one day see the patterns and even before that time, he would know himself as one who had deceived himself willingly. Was the race of man any different, Hux tried to steer his thoughts away, was the courtship between men and women not equally formulaic, echoing the same set of melodies throughout the centuries? Whatever had brought them into existence was not without its patterns, was not beyond the realm of predictive statistics, there was much that one could anticipate with careful calculation.

This and more he told himself in reassurance as he struggled to turn his affections back to the figure pressed against his body. Hux buried his face in the crook of its neck, his chest heaving. He touched its delicate ears, eyelids and lips as one who was blind – imaging with relish that he could each night savor every inch of this being that seemed to breathe as he breathed. It would be his comfort in a toilsome life. They stayed locked thus as their hands passed over each other’s bodies in gentle caresses, both avoiding to touch below the waist yet feeling one another’s arousal and knowing that a growing lust might be reciprocated if not that night then in one soon to be, when the feeling of embarrassment and shame was surpassed by carnal longing.

Armitage allowed himself to feel the blissfulness of the android’s hand stroking his hair, a childish comforting gesture as though of approval more than of desire. This changed however as the other hand soon began a struggle with removing Hux’s clothing, tugging at the zipper behind him, pulling at the silver belt buckle, with little avail. With a sheepish smile, Armitage sat up momentarily and removed his uniform with the efficiency of routine, leaving only his undergarments, a pair of plain black boxer briefs. The android sat up as well and leaned into him, pinning him onto his back with its weight – being much heavier than he had anticipated.

Their arms entangled once more and their legs intertwined; Armitage could not suppress his uneven heavy breathing as the other rubbed its groin against his. It took a conscious effort to allow himself to exhale in an unconstrained fashion, assuring himself that there was no shamefulness in their action, yet did not go so far as to make any sound of pleasure as the android seemed to feign. This frightened him somewhat lest someone in passing through the halls or in a neighboring chamber should hear, and so he signaled for it to abstain – receiving the other’s obedience with a scowl. Yet it was not long before its face again contorted in expressions that looked as much like pain as like pleasure, and these further aroused Armitage who was as much gratified to satisfy the other as he was intrigued about what one looks like in the throes of intimacy. Nonetheless, he did not go so far as to think that what intimacy they had would suffice for another human, recognizing how clumsy and prudish he was even with his very self or with a being in the same class as an advanced droid.

It was not long before he reached the ecstasy which concluded the satisfaction of his lust and the transitory illusion of the other’s adoration. He clung still to the body which lay panting at his side as his own breathing steadied and a certain sadness seemed to return to him. Armitage tried to distract himself from it by his curiosity regarding the androids functionality, things about which he had been too modest to ask. His hand moved over the contour of the other’s side, kissing the android all the while until his hand brushed against the other’s groin area, which had remained dry. The android, misinterpreting the movement, likewise reached out to touch Armitage, who remained still as the other fondled him there. No longer fueled by carnal thoughts, Hux meanwhile dwelled on whether it was pathetic or wise for him to have procured the android, for he could never entirely shake the knowledge of the insincerity of it all.

It was little more than a mannequin of self-love left in desperation; all of its emotions were but projections of his own; all of its thoughts, words, and actions were subservient to a script. More than this, it had not the power to reject him – had it? This question too he had been afraid to ask, even when the sales executive was on the cusp of speaking on the topic on his own accord. He desired not to know -- unable to decide which answer he would be better able to accept.

Hux moved away with the excuse of changing his clothing and bed sheets while the android waited patiently, sitting on the floor with its legs pulled up against its chest. When he saw it in that moment, he imagined that he was looking at himself as in a dream, and that he was not Armitage but Kylo Ren. The idea dawned on him then, in a form that he might venture to explore, that he might play out the fantasy in full the next time that they were intimate – he would be Ren and the android would be Armitage. It would possibly help diffuse the discomfort he felt with the notion that none could love him but himself, even in make-believe .

Having showered and changed into his uniform, Hux returned to find the android sitting where he had left it. It touched his heart to see it so, wondering if it too felt some of the moral complications and unpleasantness that he had experienced after his mind was no longer clouded by the height of lust.

When he approached and knelt beside it, he found the skin was again cold to the touch. It seemed to be in a kind of hibernation mode. Only as he touched its shoulder did the internal mechanisms again stir into life. It stood and took his hand and for a long moment they remained thus until Armitage could no longer delay his duties. In his pocket was a controller with which, trying as much as he could do to so unobserved in the washroom, he entered the passcode and reset the android back to hibernation mode.

When he returned to the where their bed was, he saw that it lay on the floor in the position of one who had fallen in a sudden faint. Regretting his lack of foresight, he examined it to make sure that there was no damage and then carried it to his bed, not without much struggle. He left the android there under the blankets, gazing at it a final time before taking his tablet and exiting the chamber.

  
  
Chapter 2

Armitage walked down the corridor with trepidation, ruing both his tardiness and the taxing situation to which he had committed himself – one that could hardly be more perilous to his hopes of retaining his position if he had been harboring a traitor, so spoke to him his inner voice. Perhaps in this conclusion his fears were causing him to exaggerate the weight of what he had done, yet somehow to go against convention for the sake of sentimentality, rather than for ideological or pragmatic reasons, was more unendurable to a man of his upbringing.

It was too late in any case, he could not very well dispose of the android as if it were no more than a defective droid, could he? Before he could dwell any further on this matter, a set of metallic doors opened at his approach and Armitage was startled to nearly collide with the all too familiar figure of Kylo Ren.

He staggered back with a grimace of annoyance and ill suppressed anxiety lest the other should reach into the corners of his mind where he had stored the memory of the prior night, and likewise the restless anticipation for the night which lay ahead.

It was of some comfort to see that there was no sign of a smirk or any other gesture of derision, as he imagined might be the response of one that knew. There was only a reflection of what his own furrowed brow might look like, his own drawn lips ready to speak terse words to an objectionable being.

“What is it that had kept you general?” Ren’s voice echoed in his ears, ambiguous and calm.

“I had other work that had to be completed,” he answered vaguely, straightening his back, his tone unwavering.

“What other work?”

“I do not have time for this, the council is waiting for us – Supreme Leader,” Armitage spoke the final words with forced mockery, bowing his head slightly with a cynical smile before he turned from Ren and continued down the hall in quick strides, at times checking the regular stream of status updates from his tablet.

These he seemed to view with his eyes yet hardly did the words register in his mind as he read them, such was his relief at being rid of the other’s presence.

He had sensed a wave of nauseating heat rise to his face as he had barely managed to maneuver himself out of needing to speak a lie – for which he cursed himself internally for not having prepared and practiced in his imagination in advanced of such encounters. Hux saw it was one of his chief weaknesses that he lacked the ability to deceive without scruple or play the sycophant in a manner that even he himself would believe to be convincing. To his dutifulness and obedience he attributed the position he had reached, and more so, to the acts for which he had often to disentangle himself from the sense of remorse, just long enough to carry them to their conclusion.

Certainly, the manner in which he had gone about the destruction of planets seemed to him so civilized in hindsight, glazed by a veneer of order, hierarchy and planning – so different from the grit of blood-stained combat where he would have to witness the humanized suffering of a few casualties, rather than the distant pixelated millions. His duty was but to serve and obey the entity which fed, clothed, sheltered and raised him since his infancy. No other community would protect him, look upon him with anything like respect, and grant him power over others – the constant yearning for validation which he fed upon had no other source.

Yet by some instinct, he had predicted beforehand that the onset of an emotional attachment would wreak havoc upon his meticulously structured life – he would be tardy with his schedule, he would be inefficient with his work, careless with even the most deeply engraved details of routine. It surprised him how little this seemed to affect him; save for the basic drive of self-preservation, a thousand pillars were receding into the background of his mind, making room for the expanding aura of vulnerable bliss, like a sweet intoxicating perfume. Even the illusions of grandeur which sometimes swept over Hux to refresh him from moral pain seemed less sweet than the primitive fantasy which had usurped them.

…

Ren approached the podium before which the senior ranks of the First Order had assembled. The hall fell to silence as many eyes watched him take the stand, their leader’s face concealed behind a mask. How convenient this might be to a young man so ill-suited to power, mused Armitage, serving much to lighten the burden – for often one finds that it is easier to speak boldly behind a screen than under the scrutiny of those whose hands were stained with blood. What a homogenous lot they were on the surface, thought Hux as his own eyes scanned the hall for familiar faces. Vicious sociopaths, monsters – he recalled these and other curses as images of haggard strangers in rags were pulled aboard transport ships. Was he too of their company? Were they like himself, with their own hidden pangs of doubt and longing? Who among them was a dissenter – he knew not, nor might he ever have the precious chance to interrogate and uncover these secret worlds.

Long had they all awaited the public words of their new leader and they had come at last, as though born of Armitage’s own mind.

“We have among us a traitor,” the sound of Ren’s voice reverberated through the hall and Hux could not shake the belief that the eyes obscured by the mask were fixated upon him.

Armitage swallowed, looking away from the podium momentarily as he gathered himself. None among the audience seemed to notice this as many had turned to look about, almost as if on cue.

Much of the meeting had passed by as though it were a blur. From what Hux had gathered, someone had been transmitting large amounts of data from the Order’s classified systems – their methods being adaptive and difficult to trace to the source. The culprit had yet to be found.

For this reason, the Supreme Leader had shut down all non-critical systems and was abstaining from announcing strategic information until the traitor was detected. New security measures would be imposed, some of which would also not be announced to reduce the dissenter’s ability to work around them. Their instructions were to continue with their duties as before and focus efforts on maintaining critical systems – access to which would be restricted to particular shifts, logged and strictly protected. These instructions were reasonable enough given the circumstances, nevertheless Hux left the room ill at ease.

Much of the work with which he had tried to occupy his time would have to be postponed. No longer had he access even to certain parts of the ship in which he was stationed. To make the best of matters, Armitage told himself that it would likely have been a struggle to focus upon the duties of the day, which had grown to be monotonous without any definitive direction to strive towards.

In the weeks prior, Hux would busy himself with inspecting the ships, infrastructure, and training of the troops, all the while sensing the growing whispers and uncertainty prevailing through the ranks of the Order since the death of Supreme Leader Snoke. The recent meeting had left him and the others with little in the way of clarity for what they might expect from Kylo Ren and their continuing life within the First Order. Yet in this drifting way two more weeks were passed.

…

He dragged it into his clothing cupboard to have it out of his sight – the corpse-like copy which lay on his bed.

Removing his uniform, casting it on the floor, Armitage went to run the water of the bathtub. How grateful he was that his rank permitted him this luxury, for often he would finish a long day by reclining in the hot water where he would rest his tired limbs. Soothed by the warmth, he closed his eyes and tried to think through what he ought to do.

So familiar the thoughts were, those of running away, they hardly disturbed him anymore. He knew that they were but idle fancies that he would never act upon. Harmless fantasies of escape.

At times he could see his face obscured by billowing robes, sitting on a creaky chair drinking a diluted drink that tasted like the soup which was served to captives, burning his throat by its fermented state. How lonely that would seem, how ill at ease would he be – always afraid that someone would recognize him. Nor would he know how to share in the uncouth banter of mercenaries and others of the same brood. While his life was hardly one that he could call comfortable, it was regulated and structured – a blessing and a curse. He knew it would not be easy to earn his survival by resourcefulness, manipulation or charisma -- or by any other means left to men who have nothing but the rags upon their backs.

Hux stood up and stepped out of the bathtub, drying himself with a towel as he passed to the bed with its sheets still disheveled.

It sent a pang through his heart to imagine that someone had laid there just recently – a being that was so nearly human, so nearly alive – so near to himself. No longer was it there and it had been he who so unceremoniously hid it away as though it had served its purpose and was useful to him no longer. The general knew no greater fear than this – that he himself would one day outlive his usefulness and would be discarded.

Only the lateness of the hour and the throbbing headache which had not left him since the morning prevented him from opening the closet door and confronting that which lay within. It was in some ways eerie for Armitage to think of it still waiting there, like the cadaver of a victim that had yet to be properly disposed of.

Burying his face in the pillow of his bed, Armitage let out a muffled sound, his hands clenching around the bedsheets tightly.

“Pathetic fool,” he hissed “Stupid! Stupid thing!” Hux’s eyes shut as he tried to keep back the neurotic tears of one whose public self fought hard to hide the inflections of frailty. “What am I doing, what am I doing – useless, useless, useless,” in desperate whispers to silent walls he struggled to regain his composure. To lull himself to sleep by some comforting thought to cling to, that was his desire, if only he could steer himself towards it. No longer would they come to him, those mirages, chased away by the near hysterical distress which he had roused in himself.

Getting up suddenly from his bed, he took up his tablet and opened the saved database of mission reports. Reading through them, case by case. They were like narratives to him, glimpses into the stories of men and woman, many of whom were long dead or so greatly changed that they bore little resemblance to what they once were since they had completed their training. At times he would find one that might remind him of a face that he thought he had seen in a corridor, or amid the stalls of a market town which had been turned to dust. Amid these ghostly personages he sought and at times would find those which would remind him of himself or what he might have been, for better or for worse, and with their unembellished stories he distracted himself until his brain was aching from want of sleep.

At last it pulled him in, that deep abyss of dreams, assembled from memories, forebodings and desires.

…

_The hall was the same as it had been, and all those who had gathered there – Ren too stood where he had stood that morning; it was only himself whose position had changed. No longer was Armitage comfortably seated among the audience but instead knelt at the feet of the Supreme Leader, his body unclothed and his nakedness regarded by all._

_Yet none of the commanders seemed shocked nor bore any sign of emotion, like a static camera frame or a congregation of painted dolls – their faces, they were painted masks._

_Only Kylo’s face seemed to move, his lips showed that he was speaking but no words were audible to the general. For some time he did not so much as look at Hux, who saw no chains upon his limbs yet was nevertheless unable to move – there was a pain about his wrists and ankles as though a relentless grip held him there. He struggled not, in some way still affected by exhaustion and a wonder which held him frozen in place. Thrilling and awful was the sensation that those things which were most abhorrent to him had come to be, and yet, their pain was less than the pain which he had imagined. His own indifference surprised him – that he was able to disregard humiliation, like some kind of slave or animal at the feet of its master. But was it that, was it truly indifference that he felt? For in his chest there was a tightening and the familiar convulsions which he recognized as the marks of hope._

_It felt as though he was near to collapsing and so he leaned his body against Kylo’s leg. Then, a gloved hand reached down and gripped his shoulder tightly as if to steady him._

_Kylo’s fingertips moved up to his neck and held up his chin, his piercing eyes meeting those of Hux, inspecting him. Suddenly the features of the other man’s face began to grow blurry, more so the harder he tried to focus on them. Armitage tried to move but still found that he could not. He felt a weight upon his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He tried to relax, tried not to fight it. Another wave of sickness came over him before he watched from above as his own body teetered over the podium like a porcelain doll, shattering into a thousand pieces before the audience of masked figures._

Armitage awoke with his breath heaving, his skin drenched in sweat from the surreal terror of the dream. He knew not how to interpret the strange signs imbedded into the fragments of memory. He poured himself a glass of cold water and drank it all down as though it might cool his thoughts and help dislodge the haunting stage.

No harm had come to him, no evil deed was done. Why then did he feel frightened? His eyes darted again to where the android was and it was enough to urge him to turn on the flickering lights, illuminating his chamber with an artificial luminescence. Its familiar bluish hue marked the division of night and day, to which was given a faintly perceptible warm tone.

He checked the time: four hours remained until morning, until his first shift of the day.

…

Hux dressed himself and lapped water over his face before exiting the chamber. He told himself that he had been spending too much time on his own, had too much spare time on his hands. Amidst the obligations of the relentless work which was allotted to him by the pervious Supreme Leader he would never have been allowed to sink into solitary confinement and maddening delusions.

As he paced the halls, mustering as best he could the semblance of a purposeful walk and a focused air, Hux was startled by what he thought he saw in the inch of space before the corridor doors closed. Was it still a dream, a phantasm of his sleepless state?

Against his better judgement he ran towards the doors. For a time they did not open – a mere few seconds; a malfunction, only a malfunction. “No—no!” Armitage whispered under his breath, he knew not what to think. How ridiculous it was, that which he had convinced himself of. Hux stared at the empty corridor in dismay.

He walked on aimlessly, several hours passing thus, finding himself in halls he only dimly recollected. The night would soon turn into dawn, yet in the depths of space hardly could he know it save for by seeking the artificially marked intervals of time. He could hardly walk straight yet he trudged on, knowing not by what impulse he was compelled other than one which sought for the peaceful sleep of exhaustion, yet fearing the nightmares that might visit him there.

His legs, his mind, they failed him in due time. Armitage leaned against the wall for support, trying to focus on his breathing, on the humming sound of cooling systems.

A pained animal-like noise escaped him as his brain linked the humming sound to another much like it.

…

He had collapsed, the medical personnel had told him so. He had a high fever, an infection. He must take antibiotics.

Armitage found himself on a bed, the only occupied cot in a row of twelve. Sinking in and out of consciousness he could vaguely recollect droids that approached him to set down meal trays, check his temperature and give him his medication. One day, He came to him.

Kylo Ren sat on the edge of the neighboring cot, looking at him and at times at the floor without uttering a word. Hux too stared at the hunched dark form of the man with half-lidded eyes, waiting for him to speak.

“Seven weeks ago the power usage anomaly was tracked to you,” the voice came at last and Armitage allowed himself to close his eyes, “in your room were found the broken parts of an unauthorized droid. Destroyed, violently.”

“No,” murmured Armitage, his lips curling weakly into a strange sort of smile.

“However, there is yet no evidence tracing the transmissions to you or your droid – for which you must account for. I expect you to report to me once you are released.”

“You are lying Ren,” he turned his head to look at Kylo, whose eyes were fixed upon him in an unreadable gaze.

The other did not answer him.

“I did not have the droid seven weeks ago,” Hux tried to sit up.

“You have been found unconscious three weeks ago, on which day your chamber was inspected,” Ren said firmly, and Hux knew that the medical records and camera footage metadata which he would later request would confirm this – undoubtedly.

Armitage was about to speak yet paused as he saw that Kylo had risen and was leaving.

“Wait!” said Hux as he was about to get up from the bed – yet a force shoved him roughly back into the cot like a powerful gust of wind.

“You must rest, General,” Kylo told him, his expression menacing and almost anguished, Hux knew not what to make of it.

Ren passed by the rows of cots to the exit doors, no further words exchanged between them as he left Armitage to reflect over the strangeness of the other’s behavior, as much as his own.

…

For many days Hux was not allowed to leave the hospitalization room, nor was he able to refuse the medication that was continuously brought to him.

He knew that someone watched him over the cameras, for whenever he tried to hide or spit out the pills, the droid would return and offer to them to him again – by force when was necessary. None would listen to his assurances that he felt well and was fully recovered. He observed also that the few medical staff which attended upon him were substituted with droids. 

Armitage knew that the drug’s effect, if nothing else, left him nearly devoid of strength and had but one comfort: that since he began to take them his sleep had been regular and without nightmares.

When at last he had requested and been provided with the video footage, there was something there which astonished him. He saw on the recording that it was not an ordinary sentinel making his rounds but Ren himself that had found him in his unconscious state and was carrying him away -- the camera’s lens only following him to the end of the corridor. Hux replayed the few minutes of footage again and again, watching as the other picked him up off from where he had lain on the floor.

In the tedium and peace of his invalid state, Armitage felt few scruples in attributing to the scene a romantic quality that his logical self would recoil at. An idle self-delusion, as he saw his head resting against the other’s chest, the other’s arms cradling his legs – the man in these visions a mere silhouette of the one of reality.

Armitage turned off the recording suddenly as he heard the sound of doors opening. It was one of the droids.

He watched it as it approached him and set down a food try on his nightstand. Laying out the cutlery beside a plate of oatmeal gruel, its silent iridescent eye making the whizzing sounds of a focusing camera lens.

From a beaker, it poured a glass of water to the brim and departed through the opening doors.

…

“You are not resting,” spoke Kylo.

By some strange fancy, Hux believed that he had been watching him. And this of all things brought him a sickly sort of pleasure that rivaled with his anger at the destruction of the android. A part of him also wondered if it may have been true what the man had told him, that the illness from which he had suffered had led him to the act of delirious violence to the image of himself.

He knew not which was the worse of the two paths of madness.

“I cannot just sit here for weeks,” replied Armitage, setting down the device. “And you – have you nothing else to do than –“

“Than watch over you?” Kylo approached him, his face and voice obscured by the mask. “You felt that I have been watching, then as much as now”

“What do you mean?” his face reddened as he feigned the irritability in his voice. “Enough of these games and riddles.”

“It is fascinating to see what you are when you believe that you are alone,” spoke Kylo, savoring the effect of the disturbed words upon the other.

“Are you – are you out of your mind?” Hux’s voice trembled slightly as he sought to interpret his meaning.

“I understand you, you need not conceal it,” said Ren, observing the flush of crimson over the other man’s face. “You are not depraved.”

“I? _I_ am not depraved?!” hissed Armitage, half believing his own familiar role which he had for years presented before Kylo.

“Although you destroyed the droid to smithereens, it was not enough to conceal what it was from my knowledge,” he went on. “How strange that you should have created it in your own image.”

“I did not destroy it! Do you think that I am so far gone into hallucinations that I would not recall my own actions?” Armitage exclaimed, angered at the thought that Ren was attempting to manipulate him into a state of confusion.

“I had it repaired while you were recovering, but it is not like you and could never be alive – not as you and I are alive.”

Armitage said nothing, struggling to find words, afraid to make a confession when one may still be avoided.

“It could not imitate your mind and your body, and their desperation,” Kylo went on. He lifted his helmet, a strange expression on his face which seemed sickly and wan as with fever.

“Are you ill—“

Before he could say more, Armitage felt Ren’s hands pinning his arms.

“Do you want me to let you go?”

“What do you think you are doing?” Hux scowled at him and watched as Kylo’s arms withdrew from his wrists, to his surprise, only the sensation of his grip upon them still remained.

“I will not hurt you” spoke Kylo, standing at the foot of his bed. “You can still feel that I am holding you, as I held you before. You cannot move, yet is it your wish to escape – to run away?”

“Let go of me!” the invisible force which held him firmly frightened and aroused him the more he struggled against it. Still, Hux fought to pull away, the act of fantasy bleeding into reality being too much for him to know how to surrender to it. It seemed wrong for him to simply accept it, and more so, there was something in Ren’s manner which disturbed him also – something obsessive and perhaps sadistic, that the Supreme Leader had lost control over himself entirely and was acting by delirious impulse. There was no gentleness or reservation in Kylo as he had uttered his strange revelations and held him against the bed. He felt invisible arms encompassing his torso.

“Do not be afraid, I feel that you are,” spoke Ren, leaning close to him to kiss Hux’s disheveled hair. “I will not defile you. Yet you are mine – I want you to always be mine.”

Armitage shivered in his arms as he saw Kylo’s physical form embrace him, his expression as pained and afraid as his own.

  
  
Chapter 3

The sound of opening doors startled them both as the medical bay droid made its way to Armitage’s cot, indeed it was the regular hour at which its patient had been habituated to expect it, and therefore Hux could not help but wonder at Ren’s lack of foresight. This signaled to him that the other’s actions had not been premediated, but rather, were stirred by impulse against reason.

The interruption, even by little more than a machine, was enough to make their strange entanglement jarring, prompting Kylo to withdraw suddenly from him and make his way towards the door with a guilty embarrassed air which he had hitherto not seen upon the man’s countenance.

Ren reminded him of a domesticated animal that had been interrupted in devouring that which his master had scolded him for the day prior.

For a single moment, Kylo turned to look back at the invalid, his eyes darting away as soon as they met those of Armitage. The droid, meanwhile, carried out the methodical process of laying out the cutlery, water glass, and gruel.

The following morning, Hux was informed that his release from the sickbay had been authorized. Receiving his uniform from his all too familiar attendant, the general was glad to exchange it for the loose tunic which he had worn during the long and tedious interlude from his well-accustomed role. While long ruminating over the recent inexplicable incidents, it also weighed upon him to think of returning to his empty room and the feeling of uncertainty which likely had not left the Order in the absence of active leadership. It was like a beehive which lay dormant, a kind of hibernation which extended past its proper season. Hux feared lest the living machinery of the Order should begin to atrophy from neglect.

It was therefore much to his relief and surprise that he discovered a travelling assignment had been allocated to him. It had come from a general who required his assistance, in this way alleviating the anxious thought which had momentarily flashed through his mind. The mission related to one of the initiatives which had remained from the reign of the previous Supreme Leader, concerning the continuous improvement of energy usage and supply. The general under whose jurisdiction these matters fell was occupied with another engagement and asked as a favor if Armitage would proceed with a scheduled meeting to negotiate and review a vendor proposal.

Hux did not hesitate to accept this innocuous request, was provided with the background files of the vendor, and was scheduled for departure in two days. In the interval between his assignment, he had hear no sign from Ren, only by circulating rumors was he made aware that the Leader was ill and had taken to a self-imposed quarantine. Returning to his room, Hux was grateful for the complexities of the mission which awaited him, expending much time in refreshing his knowledge of the latest procurement files and metrics in order to prepare himself.

While at times his thoughts were still disturbed by unpleasant memories, their effect was far less than what he had feared. He was easily able to attribute his own and the Supreme Leader’s behaviour to the illness to which they had succumbed. Armitage allowed himself but one act of folly; shortly after reaching his chamber he inspected his room closely for any sign of broken remains from the android. He could see that his room and been cleaned, which was not unusual given his long absence. The only likely fragment which he held in his palm told him nothing definitive, nor could he be certain of its origin, nevertheless, he put it away in his nightstand drawer.

…

An unimposing man in his fifties met him as he disembarked the ship, escorting him through a well-lit corridor to the meeting room. Hux was escorted by two of the vendor’s colleagues as well as by three guards of his own, yet this did not dispel the polite affability of the host. After much bowing and courteous smiles, the modest-seeming man by the name of Haruvian offered him to take a seat as the lead engineer presented before him an overview of the features and specifications of an adaptation of a standard engines used in many larger First Order flight crafts. This part of the review was only of nominal value to the general, who knew that the truth of any of the team’s claims would have to be validated when the technology was sent for testing and benchmarking. All the same, he was pleased to hear that the improvement in efficiency was estimated to be as high as 27% and eager to review the supplementary files which the engineers would send to him that night.

After these preliminary meetings, Hux was taken to the small yet stately accommodations which the vendor had provided for him. Often such assignments involved partaking in the host’s evening entertainment, which was at times used strategically to draw concessions and ill remembered verbal agreements given in an inebriated state. Therefore, Armitage was in some way glad that his hosts seemed to have neglected this, for from experience he found that he was poor company and add times had unintentionally given offense by his abstinence and constrained manner, so unlike the confidence which came to him in his more formal duties. On the other hand, Hux found that he was left with a significant amount of time on his hands, anticipating that the drafting of a conditional order would not take the duration of three days. Nor was he inclined to return to the ship, given the oppressive associations which it had acquire for him.

After finishing his preparations for the following day’s meetings, the general at last resolved that he would spend the remainder of the evening exploring the planet. He vaguely recalled having visited BX434 for a short assignment six or seven years ago but he imagined that much had changed since then.

…

Armitage’s presumption was proven correct as he found it troublesome to navigate the urbanized streets, flanked by towering skyscrapers and flashy projection screens advertising a myriad of wares. Much development had taken place since his previous visit, given the recollections he still had of vegetable stalls, rickshaws, and not too distant farmlands rolling to the horizon. Gone was also the scent of manure and raw fish, replaced by a new scent which he could not associate with anything that he knew. The metropolitan citizens passed him without notice as he seemed to blend into the motely crowd of a thousand species.

While the sky had darkened into night, the stars were obscured by clouds – only the three moons which hovered over the planet managed to shine through with their pale light. Across the night sky there was a continuous stream of private space crafts, darting like flies, and for an instant Hux saw himself in one such craft, flying by an uncharted course. His escort followed at his side, the smooth surface of their white suits reflecting the colors of the electronic billboards. The city seemed to teem with promises and vacuous allurement, reverberating with a life and excitement which he knew not how to grasp.

To feast and to procure no longer had the pleasures that they did for one who had accustomed himself to seeing these as practical necessities rather than occupations that could give pleasure. However, he had not parted with a sense of curiosity which led him further along the busy streets. Hux took in the various displays behind glass windows and at times could even catch glimpses of figures seated at dinner tables. After some time it began to rain and Armitage began to search for a place of shelter, given that it would be an hour’s time to retrace his steps and reach his room. He pushed open the heavy glass door of some manner of food establishment, the first that he saw along his path.

Inside many men in gray workers’ uniforms had gathered, apparently from the same company as marked by the patch sewn on each of their overalls. Naturally they all turned to look at him, while the incongruous guest tensely sat down at a table close to the wall, waiting there in the hope that his presence would be enough to communicate his purpose. After a few tentative minutes, a mustached man in a white apron approached him and gave him a piece of wood on which were etched a series of hieroglyphics. Armitage placed held a thin lens over his eye, waiting for the translator to load; when it had done so, either the language library or the character recognition capability was insufficient to assist him. With vexation, Hux pointed to one of the characters at random and watched the waiter withdraw.

After a half hour or so of uncomfortable waiting, a bowl arrived filled with shredded pieces of some kind of fowl floating in a green-colored broth. The general turned from the window where he had been watching the rain and appeased the convulsions of his stomach with hungry mouthfuls, only then realizing that it was long past his usual suppertime. Having completed this meal, he set the bowl at a distance from him and waited another half hour until the man with the apron returned for payment. The torrents outside did not relent in that interval and Armitage considered whether he should attempt to find a driver or continue on in the rain.

The effect of the weather had reawakened his dread of solitude and so he decided that he would prolong his nighttime wanderings. As he walked, he saw a figure sitting on the side of the road, leaning against the side of a building; Hux watched discreetly as this stranger moved rocks about in looping motions like a child in a sandbox, groaning inarticulate noises. Passing by him, the general was reminded of an aphorism he had somewhere encountered: _I had not given him money, not because I am cold-hearted, but because I do not feel like unbuttoning my coat_.

Armitage saw a sign which drew his eyes, one among dozens of gaudy electric billboards crowded together in a neon kaleidoscope. It embarrassed him that his eyes done so, but it was too harmlessly insipid for him to refuse the satisfaction of his curiosity, nor could he hide that something else besides was drawing him to the _LoveBot Cafe_.

Standing in the rain, he paused before the images of women who smiled with white teeth and wide eyes, their bodies arranged in diverse angular poses, each one different yet somehow the same. There was something distasteful in it, Hux reflected, as though one was purchasing an obvious knock-off of a luxury item, its quality being just enough to give the impression of the actual. Yet it was not there to consume, only to see.

Pushing open the door, Armitage entered into a dimly lit room where he found a series of booths, at which his revulsion grew, until he perceived that it was only a screen monitor which they housed, its glow emanating through the darkly tinted glass. Within these booths he could also see which were occupied by the silhouettes figures, with apprehension he proceeded to one of the two which were empty.

On the monitor he saw what looked like a list of characters, each in a different script. He searched for one that he recognized and was able to read. Making this selection, he was presented with an array of images similar to those which he had seen without. This time he was able to scrutinize the photographs more closely, scrolling through them, slowly at first, then with more carelessness, subconsciously displeased by the complexity created by the excess of choice, nor knowing by which measures he was to make it.

He reached the end of the scroll. Sighing and then looking about him as to reassure himself of his anonymity. Impatient with himself, he found that his eyes had gravitated to what looked like a woman in a white cotton dress reaching and a straw hat tied with a ribbon. The background of her image was a green meadow with cartoon sunflowers in the corners of the frame. There was something ridiculous and tacky in this selection, yet its unintimidating quality moved his resolve.

The monitor enlarged the picture and after receiving confirmation, transitioned to a box of text which said “Welcome, please go to room 57”.

A slip of paper fell from somewhere up above him, landing at his feet like a feather. Lifting it off from the floor, he saw that it repeated the instructions and also had some additional characters in a language which he did not recognize.

As the monitor receded into a compartment in the floor, what had at first appeared to be a wall slid open revealing a long corridor. The cracked walls had been painted in pink and every few meters Armitage could see a sky blue door marked with a number. He walked for some time until he at last reached room 57. Although remembering this as his room, he looked down at the slip of paper again, his misgivings visible on his brow.

He did not know whether to knock or to simply enter. At last he tried the doorknob.

…

A woman of about his height opened the door, she smiled at him and bowed.

He was unable to recollect the features of the picture well enough to be certain that the woman abided by the image, yet the white dress, albeit without the hat, was enough to satisfy him that both she and himself were in the correct room. In the time that they stood motionless regarding one another, Hux observed that her legs were disproportionately elongated and he wondered if this was a lapse in design or an aesthetic preference of the natives of the planet. While her pearly white skin and fixed smile disconcerted him, he at last willed himself to enter the room.

Inside he saw a bed covered in a red duvet, a peculiarly shaped sofa, and two black chairs facing each other. Over the bed was a long mirror and from the ceiling dangled several ropes which deepened Hux’s foreboding.

“Welcome sir,” the woman’s voice returned his attention to her. “What shall be my name?”

“Y-your name?”

“Yes sir, I was born for you.”

Armitage did not know how to respond to such a question and he was hesitant to assign a humanizing factor to what would be a transitory observation.

“You will not have a name.”

“Thank you sir. I am content not to have a name, although there is value in returning.”

“What do you mean?” Armitage felt a churning in his stomach at her words.

“The more you return, the more you save.”

Hux scowled, embarrassed at how little it look to stir the sentimentality which he had in the weeks passed so successfully pressed back.

“Never mind. What happens now?” he asked, disregarding his definitive first guess.

“Anything you wish sir, all of your dreams are possibilities,” she continued to smile at him, her lashes fluttering at timely intervals.

“Highly improbable possibilities,” Hux answered sardonically.

“Would you like me to relieve your health?”

“Excuse me?”

She sat down upon the bed and began to remove the dress.

“Wait!” he exclaimed. “No – that will not be necessary” 

“Disassembling and destruction of property is not permitted,” he readjusted her dress and rose from the bed, taking a seat on one of the chairs.

“Uh – I see,” he did not know what to make of the statement.

“Would you like to eat sir?”

“No”

“Would you like to be amused sir?”

“Y-yes” Armitage said hesitatingly.

“It is your first time sir Priority Payment Processing, I will show you a fun game!” she hopped to one side of the room and entered a code into a keyboard fixed into the wall, at which, activating a panoramic set of holographic projections. Two guns appeared to float in front of Armitage and the girl a few seconds before amorphous creatures with beaks hurled themselves at them like missiles. The girl shot at them with expert aim and agility while Hux indecisively took hold of his gun. Wondering what would happen if one of these creatures should hit him, he allowed it to happen, feeling a vibration in the floor panels and seeing flash of red in front of him. After a few minutes of this game, which interested him but little, he asked her how to put an end to it.

“To end the game, one must simply say ‘Stop Controller’” at which the holograms and looping music disappeared instantaneously, leaving Hux to an equally unpleasant silence.

“Thank you,” he said, again looking about the room and then at her.

“I measure that you are not being satiated sir, you are old and would like domesticity?”

Armitage’s lip quivered, wondering if this was an insult or a mistranslation.

“May I offer you seating sir?”

“Seating? I suppose – yes?” he wondered if this was how gamblers felt.

“Close your eyes sir.”

“I do not want to.”

“Seating is better if you close your eyes sir,” the android seemed to insist. After a long pause, Armitage at last ventured to give the impression of closing them, through his lashes watching as the room seemed to transform. The furniture which he saw previously was replaced by an antique table on which were laid a porcelain tea set, cakes, and fruit. He took note of the minute details such as the creases in the spines of volumes lining a great bookcase, the trinkets and miniature dog statues atop of the mantelpiece, and even the sparks of fire from the logs burning in the hearth.

“You may open your eyes sir!” she hopped to one side of the table, her attire having changed to that of a maid.

“How very different this is,” it required little effort for him to feign surprise for he was still marveling at the transformation, although not quite his ideal of ‘domesticity’ was close enough, and certainly a change from the previous décor – observing the absence of the ropes.

“I shall serve you now sir,” she bowed to him before taking the teapot in her hands and pouring a cup.

Armitage sat at the table and watched her do so, unsure of what to feel or whether he was enjoying it.

“Please savor our delights sir,” spoke the android, at which he picked up a strawberry. As he bit into it he found it flavorless except for a certain sourness, although it seemed ripe and red on the outside.

“Sir Priority Payment Processing is displeased,” her face contorted into one of anguish.

“No, no – it is a trifle!” he tried to reassure her.

“Sir is of a minority demographic, may we offer the Eminent Ones?”

“I suppose you may,” he knew no reason to object, save for a fear of the unknown.

Suddenly, she walked behind him and picked him up in his chair, carrying him (amidst some unheeded to protests) across the room to where lay a carpet. Setting him down nearby, she knelt at his feet and began to recite the following poems:

_His singing voice_

_Wanting to hear_

_In the morning_

_I go out to the gate:_

_In the evening_

_I walk across the valley:_

_But though I long for it,_

_Not even one song_

_Have I yet heard_

“Would you like me to continue sir?” she stood up.

“Yes,” he answered, glad to have some repose from the roulette of selecting activities.

She knelt again on the carpet and began to recite:

_I thought that the white-crane standing there was a wave unable to go back,_

_Driven by the wind which blows towards the river-shore_

“Would you like me to continue sir?” she stood up again.

“Yes,” he answered as before.

_These meetings in dreams,_

_How sad they are !_

_When, waking up startled_

_One gropes about, --_

_And there is no contact to the hand_

“Would you like me to continue sir?” she stood up again.

“Yes.”

_When evening comes_

_I will leave the door open beforehand_

_and then wait_

_For him who said he would come_

_To meet me in my dreams_

“Would you like me to continue sir?”

“That will do for now” Armitage rose from his seat, weary from the lateness of the hour and the uncertain outcome, and equally uncertain purpose, of the experiment.

“Is that a No sir?”

“Correct.”

“Are there dreams left unsatisfied sir?”

_…_

_Footnote: The poems in this story are from an anthology of ancient Japanese poetry, called The Uta, translated by Arthur Waley._

  
  
Chapter 4

Armitage took his departure, with a forced smile closing the door behind him as he found himself back in the long passageway of numbered doors. Disheartened, although not entirely surprised by the outcome of the strange experience, the general walked slowly in the direction where he thought the exit had been. All the while, drawn by a curiosity towards the other sentient beings who had wandered into the establishment of questionable repute, his ears alert to any perceptible sound which might echo through the doors.

That was when he first observed that only one door seemed to be penetrable to his hearing, or gave sign of an occupant: that from which he had departed – marveling at whether this was due to it being the only room reserved (which he deemed unlikely, for he recalled the shadow figures in the booths) or if it was by some masterful craft which gave him such liberties for only the door with his number upon it. He could not help but commend the establishment’s presumed consideration for the privacy of its guests, regardless of the morality of it, which he had yet to fully digest as being more for the good or harm of a repressed society. And even to the latter point he could not swear to: whether it was an excess of order or of liberty that led the people of the strange planet to direct their affections towards fetishized replicas of sentience.

Regardless of this mystery, Armitage lingered nearer to the door, retracing his steps as one who was loathe to interrupt the conversation within or make known his surreptitious presence. 

“ _Truly, you are quite ridiculous – how do you expect to pay off your upgrades at this rate_?” issued an unfamiliar female voice.

The reply was given in a language which he did not comprehend but in the tongue which he well recognized as that of the automaton of a woman in a white dress.

“ _That is irrelevant; attached, married or otherwise, I do not know what will become of you if you continue to play the fool in periods of low demand, your strategy is beyond my understanding_ ,” the stranger seemed irked by her comrade. “ _You cannot be certain that he had no interest,”_ she went on, _“it is our policy to be persistent and patient with our new guests_.”

There was another murmur from she who Hux believed had been his android, as though in half-apologetic protest. Regardless of what he heard or thought he heard, Hux felt little inclination to listen further, finding that it was petty of himself spy upon their exchange, and of little purpose – even in his imaginings he knew not what he hoped or feared to hear. Perhaps it was that even a machine could sense a strangeness about him, something unnatural that repulsed and put on guard the imitation of a woman. Maybe its sensors had picked up something untoward in his biometrics. It was true, that he had not desired her, and he conjectured that she had thought that this was due to an existing attachment – a wife or a lover waiting for him somewhere far away. It may have been a benevolent script within the machine’s programming that had sought to spare him of the weight of remorse. In some sense, Armitage could believe that this had been the case, if he were to force into the open an optimistic view which he would rarely admit to himself in private: that he was waiting for the love of a naïve age.

With an anxiety about his hypothetical beloved as towards one marked missing, he wondered as he trudged down the poorly lit street if it would be a great relief to know with certainty that such a being did not exist, rather than to continue trying to reason with the gnawing feeling in the pit of his chest as a man approaching his forties. To soothe and appease it as a pitiful but ill-behaved child that would not understand that he had work to do or had not slept properly in days. He would eat too little or too much, wishing to forego the necessity of eating altogether, nor could he focus on anything that might give pleasure or distraction, finding something in each occupation to remind him of his own loathsome state.

For a significant period of time he had secretly held this plague-like being to be Ren, whether due to an inappropriate empathy towards him, merely by frequent proximity, or by an early fascination with people who held him in contempt – Armitage had emotionally gravitated towards the young man.

As soon as Hux was fully conscious of this fact, he made every endeavor to remain impassive and shielded from their frequently strained interactions. Indeed, the general could hardly say that he enjoyed the other’s company, or in other words, that he liked him as a man, but having made him the object of a prior-to objectless affection, he would nevertheless frequently put himself in Kylo’s path.

This affection, or quite possibly, obsession, progressed asymptotically towards a bond which existed chiefly in Armitage’s imagination, surviving on the most unsubstantiated of evidence that Ren too suffered of the same ailment. This attachment, having grown much in intensity over time, yet held back by a deeper layer of protective coldness, had been peculiarly effected by Hux’s recent encounter with Ren.

Having replayed it countless times and seen his own reciprocating or denying response – which he supposed had yet to be formally given – Armitage realized that were the other to possess him in reality, it would be with an arrogant cruelty and horror which had little to do with Hux’s self-comforting fantasies. There would be something sickly in such a submission, in knowing that Ren desired him in a cowardly way, and that their relations would be clandestine and carnal, heavy breathing and rough-handed groping in the dark. These assumptions took on the air of certainties the more Armitage brooded upon them, furthermore, he thought of how off-putting it was that Ren wanted to possess him without knowing in the least that he was not the General Hux which he presented himself to be; in none of their encounters had he ever been Armitage, none to his recollection. Not even in the sickbay. Nor could he imagine it being otherwise unless the man sought him out and lured him with a vulnerability or plain confession of his own, which he would not do before an automaton carrying gruel.

Indeed, it would be much like the relations between the android and the shadow-men.

He wondered what he would do once he returned to the ship. Of this he had a poignant dread, and amidst all of these thoughts, it had grown irksome to him that no matter where he walked, the streets were always crowded with people. Chattering, standing in his way, taking no notice of him as he passed them by. Their faces bothered him, those that seemed miserable because they were miserable, those that seemed happy because they were happy – the first group because he desired not to see any unhappiness which might rival his own in weight, making his own appear clumsily inconsequential in light of greater evils, such as miseries corporal, financial or professional; the latter group, because it reminded him of the possibility of happiness that by circumstance or personal error, had been denied to him. He did not know what to do and had not known for nearly forty years. Armitage was tired and his questionable meals had not agreed with him, yet the familiar oppression of an empty room could not beckon to him. There seemed to be truly no place for socially disagreeable people to go for repose.

Yet even while thinking these half-meant sardonic thoughts, Hux ruminated with mounting embarrassment that he had in reality gone through with the unnatural experiment, his motives even then being not entirely consciously transparent. Besides the android herself, there was too, the incident of his allowance. Perhaps a trivial administrative error and nothing more, it was made striking and unaccountable for Hux due to the recent happenings with Kylo Ren – for when he had found again the room with the booths and been directed to make his payment, he had discovered that the fee awaiting him was so excoriate as to exceed his rather generous per diem allowance.

What could he do but make the payment, holding his breath as the surprising approval went through. Something else, moreover, made him suspect that the matter was amiss and the doing of no accident, given that the tiny scar upon his palm looked rather more recent than the last time he had had his payment chip replaced about a year ago. Was it a subtle signal that Ren would soon be granting him a long awaited promotion, prompted by guilt and remorse, or maybe even by something akin to reason? Was it only a flight of fancy that the scar seemed different to him, an allergic reaction, or something else from his sickbay stay which had fallen through the cracks of memory? Was it only a currency conversion error or some other nonsensical mishap that he would have the misfortune of discussing upon the review of this notable expense?

After considering several other probable and improbable theories to account for this new financial liberty bestowed upon him, he returned to the initial source of his anxiety, the visit to the Lovebot Café. The general feared lest it was some naïve wish that brought him there, ignoring what was plain to any man of the world. What could denial and willful ignorance of the nature of unnatural affection bring but disillusionment, he reflected, yet such acknowledgements and mantras counted for little in him. He was in a desperate plight. 

Armitage knew full well the reason that he abstained from alcohol and any other substance reputed to bring relief from mild prolonged discontentment, dreading that he should drown in it before he drowned whatever it was that led him there. It had been much the same whenever he thought to take refuge in some cloying entertainment opulently presented. The only lesson which he could take away was that it was better to be a man of great influence in a place of moderate renown, than to be a man of moderate influence in a place of great renown. In the prior, he would be treated with significant reverence that would at times even be sincere, in the latter, he would very likely be served poorly and with some degree of contempt. Yet these –

Armitage staggered from the road just in time to avoid being hit by a vehicle. This near-encounter sharpened his wakefulness from the jumble of bitter aphorisms that were playing about his mind, tangent wrapping into tangent until he could hardly see the thread’s beginning or end.

At last finding his way to the room assigned to him by the vendor, Armitage realized that the rain was abating and the night sky was unobscured by clouds – giving view to the distant stars scattered overhead. If he focused upon them he knew that there were some which he would be able to identify with planets that he had once visited or plotted into the navigator logs, but this practical knowledge was dimmed by a conscious effort to return to the state of ignorance which he had had in years long gone.

The man recalled fragments of his childhood in which he would leave his chamber late at night and wander to a hilltop. Indeed, at some point in his formative years he had even built a swing with scavenged rope and a piece of driftwood, tying it to a strong overhanging tree branch, one among a dozen or so oaks which stood atop of the hill overlooking the training basecamp. Behind these was a forest in which he would not venture at night; it made him ill at ease to think that it lay behind him as he swung his bare legs to and fro, having kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks, only in the shorts and shirt which he was meant to sleep in. Therefore, he would always face the forest and have his back to the camp, by instinct rather than from experience believing that the terrors of Nature, unknown and unreasoning, were more disturbing than known logical terrors from Man, a belief which he would in later years reverse.

The cold night air would leave goose bumps across his pale skin, yet this he did not mind – it added to the strength of the sensations which his hour of liberty made him feel. How the wind would blow at times, rushing against his face and through his hair. He could almost hear music.

There, upon the hill, he would spend hours looking up at the sky – watching the stars with an intense longing for he knew not what. An otherness which was so unlike the world of the present that he hardly had the capacity to imagine it. Occasionally, he dreamed he saw there too a vision of himself embodied in the pale starlight, perhaps as the sole dweller of a vast luminescent sphere – a being intended for him, part of him, but not him. The other would be unlike himself only in so far as to be an _other_ , and not himself, to allow his inner voice to call out to it without returning to the forest-fearing Armitage with cold feet beneath the arbor. It was painful to think that his hopes and ardent desires would merely loop back to that which he knew and loathed, or to that which was but a secret alcove for dreaming, and therefore not real.

Instead, he saw a narrow-faced and haggard man, in possession of a futile power over distant ambivalent dominions, fearless of fleshy red-faced men and their hissing spit of anger, indifferent and aloof. Yet these aspects were hardly the central aspects of Him, but only the polish what would wear off. At the center was the renunciation which child-Armitage (and later, adult-Armitage) yearned for, to turn one’s back on struggles, duty and ambition, not knowing what remained in their stead, with the dignity of having first attained them to the point of gluttony, thus banishing the scorn of a ghost which may say: it was in weakness and in the knowledge of His own inadequacy that He turned away from the path designed for him. When thoroughly considered, there may be truth in the suspicion of such paternal ghosts, for in his heart Armitage lacked conviction in his actions, and therefore, so did his idols who always seemed to wait at the cusp of a decisive moment – lacking the courage either to live or to die, having for over thirty years avoided making a definitive decision that would inconvenience the well-established order of things.

Nevertheless, on such moonlit frolics, when unfamiliar ships would pass overhead, young Armitage’s heart would pound faster in his’s chest with the hope that his pagan wish was to be answered at long last. That an entity beyond the known and knowable would take him away with it. This very request he would whisper forcefully in his mind, intently focusing his gaze upon a single star that seemed a ways apart from the others, or occasionally, with his eyes upon an entire constellation, his supplication would be addressed to the universe as a whole.

However, with compounding knowledge of chartered galaxies and their middling inhabitants, many of these illusions were dispelled, along with their misty wistful hopes of escapism. He grew to know that the rules of other worlds were the same everywhere, each dealing in similar base currencies, albeit nuanced by culture and creed. Absolute evil was as improbable as absolute good, all were mortal beings in their own gradation of terrestrial struggle. Even as he thought these thoughts, he knew that a ghostly father might tell him that he thought too much and too often of himself, and had things to do, little time to waste on the broodings of discontented adolescence. A black boot would kick aside one among a group of cooing pigeons, like the others, with its chest puffed out – the roughly hewn man passing on his way to the weapons’ storage room followed by a troop of gangling boys.

Yet what was it that made one manner of suffering dignified and dramatically tragic to an audience of stern worldly men, while another was merely laughable and trite. It was much simpler with corporeal pains, that all could see and imagine, but with those hidden beneath the skin one could never tell what a stranger might think. There was therefore a nostalgic pleasure for Armitage towards the days when he had been quarantined with pneumonia, only rivaled by an incident of a dislocated foot and two concussions which gave idleness an aristocratic air and medical staff the semblance of concerned relatives. During such times of convalescence, the potential for failure and embarrassment was so improbable that he could almost say that he felt relaxed.

Reaching his room, Armitage collapsed in his bed, an inner voice urging him to sleep for as long as he had left until the following day’s appointment, as though such matters were in his control. All the while he knew that his mind would run in circles endeavoring to make sense of thing which he could hardly keep in order.

Looking at the clock, Hux saw that only a few hours remained of night, and much to his distress, the general would later discover that he had slept through the second meeting that had been arranged between him and the vendor.

When he heard knocking at his door, he did not move nor gave answer, waiting until the source of polite condemnation had stopped. After some time, he was left again in silence and there was much in it for him of both worry and relief. What had he done? What was happening to him? It seemed that he was growing unrecognizably irresponsible after having ventured outside of the hive for no more than a day since the fall of the pervious Supreme Leader – set free to roam about in foreign landscapes only to realize that all of his illogical proclivities had grown feverish, working towards some unbearable climax that filled him with horror.

Hurriedly, Armitage began to pack his belongings.

  
  
Chapter 5  


  
  


Another appointment was arranged for the afternoon, at which reasonable excuses and apologies were duly made by the general, vaguely referring to an urgent and unforeseeable matter which required his attention that morning.

Even this slight departure from the truth made Armitage sit uncomfortably in his chair as the other man nodded in knowing acquiescence. After a period of negotiations, reasonable terms were arrived at with relative ease, in part owing to the general’s eagerness to get away as soon as possible – albeit without bringing unnecessary dishonor to the role delegated to him by his comrade. Briefing the other general as to the outcome of his dealings with the vendor, it was validated that he had performed competently by not being overly aggressive with his terms – as the other feared might be the case – given that a long-term partnership was what they ultimately sought. This relieved Armitage of further anxieties regarding the mission itself, save for the uncanniness of his actions and state of mind during the prior night, the effects of which had not entirely left him.

By a linkage of reason hidden in his subconscious, the favorable conclusion of the negotiations gave the general courage enough to carry out a second act of madness, that is, an irrational act by a constitutionally rational man with a proclivity for routine, and in general, predictable sequences of cause and effect. The apprehensive decision which marked the evening, as it had done with the evening prior, was made through the same restless impulse: a response to a conviction that there had hitherto been something fraudulent in Armitage’s existence for a span of many years, not so far as to say that he felt himself to be an imposter in his role, for he performed it well to the general satisfaction of his superiors, but rather, from a prolonged suppression of vague fantastical desires wholly impractical for one approaching middle age.

If he endeavored to express this feeling in a single word, he might perhaps call it wanderlust.

Pacing about his room, intermittently pausing at the communicator which rested on the nightstand, and at times even turning it on, and then off – Armitage at last mustered the will to request permission for a week of absence from his duties. In great distraction while shuffling food about a plate, Hux received a sudden and unexpected transmission containing a conditional approval. Opening the details of these conditions, he found there a single line of text: _You are required to remain within tracking range. You are required to return._

It was the implication which the latter condition held that struck Armitage and convinced him entirely that he had no further appetite for Glock[1] that night. Disposing of the half-eaten meal, he stepped out onto the balcony to consider and weigh the significance of this detail. _You are required to return._ _You are required to return._ He repeated the words in his mind, almost speaking them out loud. The unusually prompt response from what was a notoriously exasperating bureaucratic process was set down as further evidence for the belief which he harbored around Ren’s panoptic gaze upon him: that particular attention was and would be paid to his every movement, perhaps even his every thought. This conviction, which in many other cases would have been the onset of paranoia, was made credible to Hux since the other’s ambiguous overtures at the sickbay, aggravated by a near-complete absence of communication thereafter.

As Armitage mused if it was Kylo himself who had taken over the administrative duty in this particular case or if he had entrusted another with the actual data entry – the general observed that he was able to scroll further and that the romantic longing imbued in _you are required to return_ was but a fragment of _you are required to return in seven days from the date of approval._

Feeling exceedingly ridiculous at having allowed his presumptuousness to wander so far as to raise the ghost of a neurotically obsessive Kylo Ren, Armitage promptly confirmed receipt and hoped that was the end of it. Exhaling deeply, he turned off the datapad and laid down upon his bed. Turning onto one side, and then the next, he eventually got up again and activated the lights.

Retrieving the data pad, he began to scroll through a list of thousands of planets, the ones which he recognized being mainly notable war zones, sources of natural resources or bases for the manufacture and development of weapons, ships and nothing promising to fill the growing void of rampant sentimentality which had cumulated into a crisis. Suddenly, Hux received five urgent notifications, three informing him that the ship which had transported him to the planet was under heavy fire, a fourth that it had been destroyed. The fifth message was an advertisement for what was marketed as the _Oasis List_ , linking to descriptions and photographs of approved planets for ‘a holiday of rest and relaxation’.

As he scrolled through them, they all resembled one another in being hot and humid; conducive of excessive eating and excessive exercise, or some complementary combination of both; and boasted to be guarded as well as a maximum security prison. None of this seemed to appeal to Armitage. Moreover, because taking such a break from one’s duties was usually mandated in response to some manner of public psychotic breakdown by a high ranking officer – one who it would be inconvenient to dispose of – Hux imagined that he would find himself alone, or surrounded by other neurotic disgruntled obsessive-compulsive tyrants, while being shadowed by snickering guards, only to return to a similarly snickering crew – for such things could hardly escape the stream of gossip. 

With the brief second thought that perhaps he would find friendship there, he decided that his chances at ‘rest and relaxation’ were poor there compared to the appeal of the unknown: a self-planned excursion – which had the advantage of being not so much a plan but merely a feeling that lay somewhere in the expanse of the galaxy, its very intangibility protecting it from many a sound argument.

…

Armitage awoke early the following morning.

He had originally planned to return to the ship in order to get some of his belongings, but recalling that the ship was incinerated, decided that he would manage without them. Furthermore, returning to any First Order ship was something he was disinclined to do, half fearing lest this would somehow reverse the permission which he had been granted. Leaving the guestroom and thanking the vendor, Armitage wandered down to the lobby, his suitcase following after him like a faithful dog.

He activated its navigation capabilities and asked it to find the nearest port of departures. The droid dictate directions which he later gave to a driver who took him to a busy paved clearing where a myriad of spacecrafts and boarders awaited their departure times.

Many amenities were supplied by merchants pushing carts of cloying food, others hawking diverse wares which occupied the time of indolent ramblers walking along the bridges to the numbered waiting stations. It had been a long time since Hux had flown on a public spacecraft, or one not within the control of the First Order, yet he opted for this mode of travel for the sense of anonymity that it gave and the desire to disconnect himself from all reminders of his day to day life hitherto. In addition, he had stopped at a marketplace along the way to purchase what was lacking among his luggage, including a set of clothing besides his uniform – something that he predicted would mark him out for hostilities in many a region of the galaxy.

Still uncertain as to his plans and lacking confidence in his abilities in the absence of the authority which the Order had bestowed upon him, Hux took with him attire that could signal either high, low, and moderate social status as need may be. This included a navy blue high-collar coat with silver cufflinks, a gray cotton tunic tied at the waist with a simple black leather belt, and a tattered black robe with well-worn sandals. The rest he resolved to acquire once he had a clearer view of his aims. Moreover, he packed cans of food and portable objects that may easily be converted into currency including tools and batteries. Taking care of these practical considerations helped give the decisive step of finally approaching the booking counter the air of reasonableness.

After waiting for an hour, he at last reached the front of the considerable line for bookings. It was with some effort that he suppressed his consternation at seeing no one at the counter, for the glass was darkly tinted. Nevertheless, he ventured to speak, in hopes that the clerk was still there.

“Hello?”

“Destination and departure time,” he heard a curt hoarse voice give answer before the dark glass of the booking counter became transparent. Armitage then beheld a portly being of a species which he did not recognized sitting in a revolving leather chair, looking up at him briefly and then continuing to chew an aromatic plant which partially protruded from its mouth, meanwhile counting and arranging tattered notecards into slots somewhere beneath the counter.

This anticipated question and the creature’s impatient expression had not failed to discompose Armitage.

“Please show me the list of departures for today,” he requested.

Looking up again, the clerk passed him a thick dog-eared booklet.

“Here are the regulars. Check the board for the rest,” it pointed to the left with a yellow-hued nail and then turned to the next creature in line.

Armitage shuffled in the direction pointed by the claw with some perturbation as the metallic black suitcase whizzed in wide circles around him in an irritating fashion, making him resolve to reconfigure it when the time and place permitted it. 

Looking up at the display board, he saw many names and coordinates listed there, only some of which held any kind of association for him. Hux stood there for some time, reading the names and racking his memory for those that seemed familiar as people hurried past him, occasionally shoving him or obscured his view. Realizing the futility of the activity, he followed the notable movement of the masses towards the central waiting areas. The general observed, much as he had expected, that some waiting halls had hundreds of passengers gathered there, most had about a dozen, while several had only one or two.

By one of the bridge doors sat an old man drinking soup from a terracotta bowl, some of it dripping onto his lap, but nonetheless failing to disturb the essence of sagacity which he carried about him by virtue of the length of his beard and the thousand creases of his face. Armitage observed that his chalk-white skin had a tortoise-like texture about it and that his long red-lacquered nails furthered added to the shamanistic eccentricity of his appearance. The general had prior-to made few interactions with such personages, yet an instinctual desire for spiritual guidance caused him to gravitate to one who he could easily cast into the archetypal role of wiseman.

Armitage wandered close to where the old man sat, making as though to look at the display board with a forced-leisurely gait, meanwhile searching for a non-committal unthreatening way of introducing himself to the other. At some point he realized that his plight was not unlike the difficulties faced by one hoping to approach a potential romantic partner, and this amused him enough to attempt eye contact with the tortoise-faced centenarian.

While its master struggled with the subtleties of informal social interaction, the suitcase droid made a number of casual loops at a less than respectful distance to the elder, albeit exceeding Hux in frequency and velocity of unnecessary movement so as to entirely give away the pretense of a bored disinterested fellow passenger.

“Trash bin,” muttered the man, followed by a curse. He looked venomously between Hux and the suitcase as he searched about his robe for a gun.

“What is the destination of the ship which you are awaiting?” Armitage interceded between them, his tone inadvertently hostile for the time he had wasted, much displeased with the realization that the man would not live up to the image of stoic composure which he had hoped for him.

“I know you,” his brow furrowed darkly while Hux searched fanatically for a memory of the man.

“I do not recall having made your acquaintance. Perhaps we might – “

“This will jog your memory,” Hux’s half-uttered answer had the unfortunate result of the old man throwing his bowl at him, missing, and hitting the suitcase droid, the bowl breaking into many fragments and an entourage of security droids surrounding both the suitcase and bowl. The suitcase restrained the man by taking on a liquid state and engulfing the stranger’s foot with an iron grasp, thereby fixing him in place and spilling Hux’s clothing across the floor. The old man cursed and struggled vehemently, shooting at the suitcase and the security droids. Meanwhile, in utter mortification, Armitage had wandered away in the direction of the men’s room to let these matters sort themselves out, hoping thereby to escape the indignity of having to give half-formed explanations for the awkward encounter. Moreover reasoning that there was no honor lost by avoiding a scuffle with a centenarian. In short, Armitage feigned to have no association with either the hoary vagrant or the droid, both of which he cursed in his mind. More so, he cursed himself for whatever it was that he was attempting to do rather than return to his work and the peace of unquestioned authority and routine.

Lapping cold water over his face, Hux grimaced at his failure to remain inconspicuous for what had been hardly a few hours into his so-called adventure. Later, hearing what he perceived to be more gun shots and ensuing silence outside, Armitage looked out to see the limp body of the old man being dragged away by guards. By the sound of the shots and the appearance of the wound he knew full well that it had been his suitcase that shot him.

…

The horror of an ignoble death by a portable storage compartment weighed heavily on Hux as an exemplar the dark humor of the cynical god whose presence he agnostically felt for much of his adult life. 

Thus Armitage inaugurated his vacation. The sardonic absurdity of the incident was in the eyes of Armitage complimented by the humiliation of having to return to the scene with a new suitcase in order to gather his blood-stained garments strewn about the floor, fully conscious of the amused gaze of onlookers as he threatened and chased away the scavengers fighting amongst themselves over his coat.

“Gate 585 right? The ship is ready, hurry up,” a voice called out above the sound of turbines, the man looked to be a pilot, his face obscured by the dark glass of his helmet.

On an impulse, Armitage shoved the rest of his things into the case and proceeded to the gate where the old man had been waiting, justifying this rash action by the instinct to escape a search and interrogation that was likely to follow once the camera footage was reviewed by the security droids.

“Yes,” Hux answered, grabbing the satchel which the elder had left behind lest the pilot's wandering eye should ask about it.

[1] Glock: a dish cooked by the Duloks of Endor. It was made from various ingredients, including roots. Glock was prepared in a large pot and stirred with a large spoon. It was typically served in bowls. The food itself was a thick, gray liquid. (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Glock)


End file.
